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Under The Floorboards
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The rain gently dripped off the gutters; they've been flooded for a while. The landlord is still refusing to have someone come fix it. I listened to the sound, the same damn sound, for hours on end. It was loud enough that, if you knew what it sounded like, you could hear it. Yet I didn't leave my house. Last time I went outside was around a week ago. I went to the grocery store, to get food. I knew I couldn't leave my house, or else I'll just feel worse than I already do. The only time I would is if my life was in danger, otherwise I kept all the windows and doors locked, and the fireplace on. Like Mom told me to do if I'm sick. I knew my Mom very well, or used to. We haven't talked for years, after finding out about my new job. If you say she didn't approve of it, you would be wrong, but if you said she hated me for it, you're right. I still did everything she taught me, though. I never really knew my Dad. Mom told me that he had moved away when I was young, but that doesn't seem right. It just never feels like she's telling the truth. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap The sound of heavier rain stopped my train of thought, and brought me back to the present. I wasn't too excited to be back, but maybe I could take a nap. Cough, cough. Nope, no nap for me. I guess the flu and the common cold never rest. Luckily I was in bed. I turned the TV on, and filtered through the channels, seeing the regular shows, like Game of Thrones, and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. I turned the channel to Fox9, I figured if I can't be out in the world my self, mine as well watch a pretty lady tell me about it. "Now for our story of the day, a stench was found in a woman's home, coming from under her floorboards, when the police looked, they found the woman's husband, who has been missing for nearly thirty-four years! The woman, Traci Garcia, is now being-''" I paused the TV when they showed her mug shot. "What the he- ''Mom! This can't be! She would never do this," I told the newscaster. As if she could actually hear me. I picked up my cellphone from the nightstand, and called the police station. "Hello, Baltimore Police Station, what can I do for you?" "Sir, I would like to speak to Traci Garcia please." "Hold on for a moment, let my transfer the line to the holding cells." I listened to the cheesy holding music. It didn't even sound like holding music. It sounded more like elevator music. The piano was playing genial notes. I wasn't complaining. It gave me time to think. I looked around my dirty bedroom, I saw clothes on the carpet, the bed torn up. It was like a tornado went through here. I have to clean this soon. "Hello, I have received notice you would like to speak to prisoner 5243708, Traci Garcia? What relationship do you have with 5243708?" His gruff voice sounded almost exactly like the first one. "I'm her son, she's my mother. May I speak to her now?" "You may." The line went back to holding music, so I put it on speakerphone and waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. This was irregular. It's been around nine minutes, and I still couldn't talk to my Mom. Then, the line picked up. "We apologize, but you may not talk to 5243708 because of circumstances. I apologize for this inconvenience. Thank you for your call." "Wait! No! Don't hang... up." Cough, cough. It was too late. He already hung up. I'm going to go to my Mom's house, I want to find where they apparently found my Dad. I pulled up in the driveway, and found the key Mom gave me. I opened the door and walked under the yellow "Crime Scene" tape. I looked around the small entryway, and the rooms that branched from it. The first place I wanted to check was the upstairs, the small hub had hardwood floors. I walked down the linoleum tiled hallway, and up the stairs. I climbed to the top of the stairs, and looked around. I knew this wasn't where the body was found, because all the boards were still in place. I went back downstairs, and thought about where to go next. I decided the living room, the only other place I knew had hardwood floors. It looked like it had always been, no hole in the floor either. I knew one place I needed to check, because I've never been there. The basement. My Mom told me it was too dangerous down there when I was a kid. I was a grown up now, I was sure I could face whatever's down there. I descended the wooden stairs, a couple of them creaked. I can see why mom didn't want me down here, there were no railings on the stairs. The sliver count is probably maximum down here. There seemed to be a lot of dust down there. The smell I hated the most, though. It smelled like death, mixed with old wood. Cough, cough. I felt my feet land on the floor, and, for some reason, the floor was hardwood. Bingo! I felt the walls for a light switch, but I couldn't find one. I walked into the center of the room, and a small chain hit me in the face. I tugged on it, and a lightbulb slowly flickered on. I looked around, and spotted a place where there was a hole in the floorboards. I went over to the spot, and knelt down. I just looked. I didn't know what to do. So I kissed the ground were my Dad once laid. I started to bring my head up, but I noticed that the hollow space was bigger than it looked. So I grabbed my cell and turned on its "Flashlight" app. I immediately wished I didn't. There was a skeleton down there. I almost immediately shouted, "Holy shit!" startling myself. I swerved my cellphone in another direction, only to see two more. "There's more than one victim..." I jumped up and ran upstairs. I called the police. "Hello, wel-''" "Hi, Traci Garcia isn't a murderer, she's a serial killer. I found a minimum of three more bodies at the home." "''Who is this?" "Officer Tony." "Oh, officer. Where did you find these bodies?" "In the basement, under the floorboards." ---- Written by CrazyWords